Have You Gotten Taller?
by YAJJ
Summary: Edward hasn't been having a wonderful time at the HQ, so Roy does the only thing that he can think of to cheer him up: "Fullmetal, I meant to ask this a little while ago, but you look a little off-kilter. Have you gotten taller?" Rated for one (or a few) naughty words.


Have You Gotten Taller?

Because it's not as if Ed doesn't grow... it's just that no one notices when he does. I don't know how I came up with this, so don't ask.

A little hurt/comfort, a little brotherly thing going on between Ed and Havoc, and the much needed fatherliness of Roy, because we all know that he's the best. And, for good measure, a tiny bit of humor. Well, this was fun.

A/N: Time for some shameless advertising!

_Do you like chimeras? _

_Do you like Roy Mustang?_

_Do you like future!fics where Roy Mustang IS a chimera?_

_If so, have I got the story for you_!

Sorry. I've had this many people (-) read my story The Coldest Years, and that's my pet project, so I'm going to shamelessly advertise my story until more people read it and JUST TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT. Please check it out! All reviews will be answered by PM, unless you're anonymous. Don't be anonymous if you can avoid it! That's boring!

And, finally... I don't own anything Fullmetal Alchemist related. :(

* * *

There was not a thing that escaped a grumpy Edward Elric's wrath. Not a one. Not the door to his dorm, not the chair that he dropped into at the cafè before heading to HQ, and certainly not the stupid little phone on his new, stupid desk that rang and rang and rang and if it didn't shut up he hoped it understood that its cord would be yanked out and it would find itself given a flying lesson, straight off the roof, because then he wouldn't be responsible for it.

"You know you just have to answer it."

Edward glared daggers at the man who had dared open his stupid, stinky mouth.

Havoc quickly put his hands up in reply, but he didn't seem to get that 'shut up' generally meant 'relative safety' whenever Edward Elric was in a mood. "It'll stop if you pick up the phone and say 'Hello, Brigadier General Mustang's office, this is Major Elric speaking'. It's not, like, rocket science."

Edward knew that he'd get reprimanded if he threw Havoc out of the window but... Well, the thought was so tempting.

Havoc chuckled, leaned forward, and snatched the phone. "Hello, Brigadier General Mustang's office, this is First Lieutenant Havoc speaking."

Havoc mumbled to himself as he listened to the call, grabbing a pad and writing on it. "Thank you very much, Major. I'll get back to you on that as soon as I can." He hung up the phone. "It's easy as that. Now you try."

"Go away, First Lieutenant."

"It's easy, Fully. Really easy. Now you try."

"FULLY?! Did you just call me FULLY?!"

Havoc ignored Edward's squeak. "C'mon, boss. Gotta learn how now that you're working an office job."

Edward stood and glared at Havoc, wanting nothing more than to knock him off of his high horse more than a little violently, "I know how to work a goddamn desk job, idiot! Go away!"

"But I have to work!"

"FINE!" Edward stormed away from the office, slamming the door shut and heading toward the break room.

He really needed a coffee.

Edward didn't even want to be there. He wanted to be... Well, anywhere else, really. As soon as he'd gotten his brother's body back, he had considered getting a job to help pay for him, and found himself stuck. The military was the only place he could go anywhere and... Well, Mustang had offered him the exact same position, at a much safer desk job, if he so chose. And at least it got him money, right?

Still, that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

He kicked open the door to the break room harshly. Not caring whom he interrupted, he trudged over to the empty coffee pot. He made up a fresh pot and sat with it warming his hands, glaring at everything.

"Ahh... And here I was, hoping to enjoy my coffee. Good morning, Fullmetal."

Edward groaned at the snooty voice, looking toward the door. There stood Brigadier General Roy Mustang, that stupid insufferable smirk on his stupid face that Edward just wanted to wipe clean off... It would get the man to shut up, anyway. "Colonel," he spat.

"That's 'General', now," Mustang reminded with a cheerful twinkle.

"Shut up and get out."

"In a mood again, I see. Splendid." Mustang went to the pot and snatched it and a styrofoam cup up, pouring himself some and already starting to suck down the heaven-sent liquid.

"Shut up." Edward kicked the counter and went to sit down at the table, while Mustang found his place on the couch.

Mustang turned to watch his youngest subordinate with a soft grin.

Edward felt his gaze and gave him a glare that would wilt flowers. "Can't you keep your creeper gaze on anything but me?" He snarled.

"Clearly not."

"Shut up."

"So," Mustang started.

"Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. Just go to the stupid office and do your stupid paperwork."

Mustang skillfully ignored him and plowed on with his conversation. "What's got you in such a shit mood today?"

"None of your business."

"As long as you're working in my office and going to grouch to my subordinates and myself, I believe that it is my business."

Edward snarled at him. He set his cup down and leaned forward on the table. "Just don't wanna be here."

"You're not normally this grumpy."

Edward snorted and looked away from his commander, glaring hard at the wall. He really didn't want to deal with anything. Not right then. He wanted to go back to Resembool and pretend that life shut itself off for a few days.

He had spent many, many weeks being teased about being short. Now that he was no longer an alchemist, no officer felt threatened by Edward. Sure, he still had his flying temper and his unmatched martial arts, but suddenly the fear that they would be alchemized to the wall or out the window was gone and the men were much braver around him. And he was really getting sick of it. The only one who knew was Havoc, who had run into some of the men blocking his path into the building and defended him with no care of his potential court martial.

Edward felt eyes on the back of his head and turned to glare at Mustang. He flinched violently when he saw the man scrutinizing him, not looking angry or annoyed at all. "Why are you staring at me? Perverted old man," he grouched, clearly very unhappy about it.

Mustang pondered his words and screwed up his face. "You know, I've been thinking, Edward," he said.

"And here I was thinking that you weren't capable."

Mustang scowled at his young subordinate. "I've been thinking, Edward," he repeated, daring the younger to interrupt him, "that you have been looking a little off-kilter lately."

"Off-kilter?" Edward asked.

"Yeah. I meant to ask a while ago, but I haven't had the chance. You look like you lean a little heavily on your left side."

It was true. Ed didn't know how long it had been happening. But was it really so noticeable? It always happened as he grew, because his auto-mail didn't grow with him. He scowled at Mustang, waving his hand a little as though telling him to get on with it. "So? What of it?"

"I was just wondering... have you gotten taller?"

The entire world froze for a fraction of a second as Edward stared at his superior officer. His eyes were wide, as though he wasn't expecting this at all. He really hadn't been.

Mustang waved his hand offhandishly. "I only noticed out of the corner of my eye. And your uniform's gotten too small. When you put out your hands, you can see your wrists. And your pants need to be tailored, or you need a new pair. They're getting too short for you." He shrugged to himself. "But it's not my place to judge." As though to prove his point, Mustang held out one hand and watched the sleeve slide up past his wrist.

Edward slowly nodded, still looking confused. A grin splashed onto his face and he jumped to his feet, all traces of gloominess gone. After all, if Mustang had called him tall, then he really must have been! Or, at least getting tall. And he was! "You're damned right I've gotten taller! Grew three inches in two months! Soon enough, I'll be taller than Major Armstrong!" he insisted.

Mustang chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure you will, Ed. Finally catching up to the rest of us. Well, it had to happen sometime."

"Shut up! I'd like to see you carrying around two heavy bowling balls for five years!"

"Thanks, but you've convinced me otherwise." Mustang stood and tossed his own cup in the trash. "I'm going to head back to the office so Captain Hawkeye won't start asking questions. Come along, Fullmetal, before she starts snapping at you, too."

"She won't snap at me. She loves me."

"Mhmmmm..." Mustang didn't sound convinced, and Edward really didn't want to take the off-chance that he was right - he enjoyed not having his body and head aerated by bullet holes, thank you very much. So he trod after his superior, dropping his own cup into the trash with Mustang's.

Edward caught up to him quickly, his boundless energy and lithe form making it easy for the young ex-alchemist to do so. He walked approximately a step and a half behind the Brigadier General and fell into an easy silence, though a small grin split his cheeks.

As soon as they reached the office, Edward heard the hustle and bustle of a busy office. Mustang started to open the door, but Edward stopped him. "Wait... listen, I'm only gonna say this once, and I don't wanna, but... thanks." It did make him feel better. He didn't know if Mustang had been lying when he said that he'd noticed Edward's growth, or perhaps someone else had pointed it out to him, but it still made him feel great that it had been noticed.

Mustang smiled at the boy. "Any time, Fullmetal."

* * *

I apologize about the ending. It's 10:36, and I can't function very well past nine, and definitely not just after marching band.


End file.
